


A Quiet Christmas

by notjustmom



Series: Christmas 2018 [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach, Victorian era, secret santa gift, the return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 13:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17325959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: This was a story I wrote as a gift in a Secret Santa Exchange for Iwantthatcoat, over this past Christmas. One of the requests was for a story based on the Holmes/Watson of the Ritchie films, so I gave it a shot to write a possible return scenario for this pairing...





	A Quiet Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwantthatcoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwantthatcoat/gifts).



Watson shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked down onto Baker Street from the windows of the rooms he had once shared with Holmes. After a moment’s serious contemplation, he startled slightly, but did not turn around as he noted the nearly imperceptible rustle behind him.

“I know you’re there, Holmes.”

“Damn, what gave me away?”

“You did, just now.” Watson grinned to himself, as he finally gave in, and turned to face the friend he had not laid eyes on in three long years. “You are here, truly. I’m not imagining you this time?”

Holmes rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at the man in front of him. He was older, his marriage to Mary had been a good one, if brief; he had read the obituary for her, and had been tempted to return, but his work had not yet been completed, and he could not risk endangering his friend, even to console him on his dear loss. “You have imagined me then, Watson?”

Watson nodded. “Quite often, especially when the odd case pops up.” He took a moment to examine his friend’s face. Naturally time had left its mark, a bit of grey in his dark curls, a few more lines about the eyes, but the light of his sense of the absurd still resided there. No obvious scars, but he was sure he had not escaped injury in the time since he had last seen him. “Nothing of note since the Professor, of course.”

“No, he was unique to his profession.”

Watson bit his lip and waited.

“You may be wondering why I am here.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Well, it is the solstice, and my work has just been completed.”

“Completed?”

Holmes nodded, walked over to his violin case, and as Watson observed with a slight frown, laid a trembling hand on it, before opening it. “I, at long last, have finally dispatched the last of Moriarty’s associates, and am free to take up residence here once again. I did note your loss last year, Watson, and I do apologise for not being present during your time of mourning. Mary was a fine example of her gender, and I do appreciate how you must feel especially at this time of year when others are celebrating. I do comprehend that you probably have a question or two…”

“No.”

“No?”

Watson shook his head at his friend and put out his hand towards him. Holmes grasped his arm and held on as he had that day on the train, after his first, but certainly not last, narrow escape from the shadows of death. “I am very glad to lay eyes upon you, John.”

“As am I, Sherlock, my very good man. So very glad.”

“Will you stay for a light supper, or do you have other demands upon your time, this evening?”

“I have no wish to be any place else, my friend.”

“Good then. Some music first, perhaps.”

Watson nodded, and though he did not wish to relinquish his friend’s arm quite so soon, did so reluctantly and turned again to face the window. “Some music would be welcome, Holmes.”

“Very well, Watson. And then, may I regale you with a slightly exaggerated tale or two of my last years?”

“Of course, I rather think you’d burst if you had to keep them to yourself much longer?”

“Ah, there is my Watson, as ever a bit of sharpness to your tongue.” Holmes grinned and finally retrieved his instrument, and after a bit of fussing began to play a quiet piece that reflected their time apart.

“I have missed you, Holmes.” 

“As I have you, my dear Watson.”

“You won’t -”

“I am here for the duration if you will have me.”

“I will, my friend. I will.”

“A very happy Christmas, then, Watson.”

“Yes, it is, Holmes, it is indeed.”


End file.
